"The shadows of the past,

Love the touch,

Life sketch ... "(p.)

Five works of the genius writer, combined with a light breath of love.

Scraps of paper scatter on the stage, what are these sketches? Outline? Works? Or stayed with the reading? Or maybe someone tried to write his life?

Each time he writes like a pencil, but does not work in any way. Something important, weightless, tremulous slips away.

And the sketch of fate turns into an unfinished sketch of life.

Long gone and now already incomprehensible to us, contemporaries, life.

And people in this world are simple and simple, and love is like a natural disaster, like rock, hanging over heroes and leading them to the inevitable finale.

After all, man is mortal, and love is untimely.

And the world in which the heroes dwell is enchanted. Every now and then someone breaks up about insurmountable obstacles, loses the thread of love - the first, acute and burning, and maybe even trembling. Someone thinks about the love of a loved one - only losing it ...

They come out from the fog "the shadows of the departed," they call and beckon.

But a wonderful moment, lost or lived, can not be returned.